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THE  SEA  WORLD  WAITS 


PS 
3515 
A345 
S4 


BY 


HERBERT  J.  HALL 


Four  Seas  Company     tt     Publishers     n     Boston 


-»-»  *  »  •  « 


IRLF 


B    3   bfifl    EEU 


BRARY 

ITY  OF 
M.IFORNIA 
CRUZ 


r*«y         Jx-x/ 


THE  SEA  WORLD  WAITS 

A  Book  of  Poems 


BY 

HERBERT  J.  HALL 


BOSTON 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 
1922 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 


The     Four     Seas     Press 
Boston,   Mass.,   U.   S.  A. 


PS 
351$ 


•I 

CONTENTS 
PART  I.    THE  SEA  WORLD  WAITS 

Page 

THE  SEA  WORLD  WAITS 9 

THE  ISLAND 10 

IN  SOLITUDE n 

MIRAGE 12 

CALM 13 

SPRING .  14 

THE  STORM 15 

FOG        .     .    '• 16 

SIRENS 17 

MEMORIES 18 

TRIUMPH 19 

CAPTIVITY  CAPTIVE 20 

THE  WORD 21 

PRAYER       .     .     .     .     . 22 

TRUTH  .     .     .     .     ...  S. 23 

THE  VOICE      .    ...    .     .     .     .     .     .      .     .     .  24 

THE  FUTURE ...      .     .25 

THE  LINE 26 

FIRE  ON  THE  BEACH  IN  WINTER  .     .     .     .     .  27 

MOON  PATH V     .      .      .28 

RAIN  AT  SEA 29 

SUNRISE 30 

HARBOR  WATER 31 

SUNLIGHT 32 

THE  WAVE .  33 

LEST  THE  GREAT  SEA  BE  LONELY  .     .     .     .     .34 


PART  II.     THEME 

THEME 37 

THE  OLD  SYMPHONY 38 

BASS  VIOL 39 

CELLO 40 

OBOE 41 

CLARINET 42 

BASS  TUBA 43 

THE  HARP 44 

CYMBALS 45 

FANTASY 46 

PRIDE 47 

MARCH  FUNEBRE 48 

FLAME  SONG 49 

NOVAES 50 

PRELUDE 51 

INTERMEZZO 52 

FINALE ,     .  53 


PART  III.  TREE,  YOU  ARE  A  SHADOW 

TREE,  You  ARE  A  SHADOW  .......  57 

THE  HEARTH  FIRE 59 

TREE-TOPS  IN  A  STORM 60 

MOON  MOTH 61 

SCARF  DANCE 62 

FIRE  FLY  DANCE 63 

CLOG  DANCE .  65 

SNOW 66 

MOONLIGHT 67 

THE  STONE  TIGER 68 

TIGER,  TIGER 69 

THE  ROAD 70 

THE  HAND 71 

THE  PISTOL 72 

MIDNIGHT 73 


PART  I 

The  Sea  World  Waits 


THE  SEA  WORLD  WAITS 

The  ocean  pauses,  will  there  be  storm  or  sun — 
The  morning  mists  hang  low,  the  long  seas  ply 
Their  even  course.     Half  tide,  the  great  gulls  cry, 
Half  tide,  half  tide — and  slowly,  one  by  one 
They  dip  and  ride  the  waves,  smooth  waves  that  run 
Like  liquid  silver  dulled,  smooth  waves  that  die 
Where  vague  and  low  the  distant  islands  lie, 
Lean  ribbed  islands,  bleak  and  bare  and  dun. 

Who  knows  what  fate  hangs  now  upon  the  shift 

The  casual  turn  of  wind?    Heavy  and  gray 

And  timelesss  all  the  sea  world  waits  until — 

Unnoticed,  straight  above,  a  icloudy  rift 

Comes  blue,  closes,  widens — wins  the  day — 

The  light  burns  through.     The  sun  god  has  his  will. 


[9] 


THE  ISLAND 

Spray  drenched  ledges,  brown  as  the  weeds  are  brown, 
White  ridged  as  foam  is  white, — touched  with  green 
Of  bay — low  spreading  oaks  and  pines  that  lean 
As  the  wind  wills — tall  cliffs  plunging  down  and  down 
To  lightless  depths  of  sea  that  hold  and  drown ; 
And  here  behind  their  sheltering  rock-carved  screen 
A  few  gray  houses,  low  and  patched  and  mean, — 
Lonely  and  still — the  little  fisher  town — 

Lost  in  the  sea,  remote  and  bleak  and  still, 
The  last  brave  outpost  of  the  world  of  men. 
Here  have  I  come,  here  shall  all  striving  cease — 
My  work  is  done — here  shall  I  have  my  fill 
Of  silence.     Give  me  your  perfect  quiet  then, 
Dream  Island,  give  me  at  last  your  own  great  peace. 


[10] 


IN  SOLITUDE 

Here  -in  still  island  solitude  the  way, 

Of  thought,  the  ways  of   feeling,  change  and  clear. 

With  ocean's  depth  and  mystery  so  near, 

The  haste,  the  restlessness  of  living,  stay 

Their  course.     Confusion  and  the  heavy  sway 

Of  doubt,  the  reign  of  shadow-haunted  fear, 

Like  thinning  mist-clouds,  lift  and  disappear 

In  clarity  of  dawn  and  closing  day. 

Here  limits  vanish  and  I  seem  to  know 
Something  of  largeness — call  it  what  you  will, 
Faith,  insight — these  the  wide  sea  gives; 
They  come  unbidden  with  the  ebb  and  flow 
Of  many  waters,  fill  my  heart  until 
The  spirit  that  was  dead  within  me  lives. 


MIRAGE 

The  great  sea  dreams  fantastic  dreams  today, 
Sun  magic  rules  the  water  and  the  sky 
And  who  shall  say  what  lands  are  those  that  lie 
Along  the  blurred  horizon,  dim  and  gray. 
Ships  that  sailed  long  since  a  world  away 
Come  back  again  at  last,  go  drifting  by — 
Dreams,  sea  dreams  that  live  awhile  and  die — 
Vain  and  idle  fancies — who  shall  say. 

Fail  now  across  the  shining  water  planes 
The  cries  of  sailors  and  the  ghostly  sound 
Of  deep  sea  chanteys;  vaguely  far  and  tall 
The  towers  of  enchanted  islands,  fanes 
And  palaces,  grow  dim;  outward  bound 
Once  more  the  dream  ships  pass  beyond  recall. 


12] 


CALM 

Deep  blue  and  motionless,  the  wide  sea  blends 

With  sky  and  cloud  till  sea  and  sky  are  one, 

One  with  the  heavy  air  and  with  the  sun : 

Rarely  a  far  bright  surface  turns  and  sends 

A  shoreward  flash;  the  shimmering  distance  bends 

And  wavers  with  long  lines  of  heat  that  run 

Almost  invisible.    The  day  begun 

In  calm,  in  night  of  calm,  unchanging  ends. 

Too  prodigal  the  warm  sun-minted  gold, 

Too  calm  the  sea.    The  ancient  menace  sleeps 

But  lightly  through  the  still  midsummer  day. 

Have  care,  have  care,  the  ocean's  depths  are  cold, 

Beware  the  night,  the  chill  of  danger  creeps. 

Far  in  the  west  the  broad  heat  lightnings  play. 


[13] 


SPRING 

With  greenness  unbelievable  the  spring 

Touches  the  island  valleys.     Day  by  day 

The  planes  of  ocean  soften  and  the  gray 

Old  rocks  grow  warm.    The  long  bright  waves  up-fling 

Their  sudden  showers.     High  on  easy  wing 

The  white  gulls  soar.     Fickle  winds  of  May 

Over  the  storm-worn  granite  hilltops  play — 

Who  shall  betray  their  gentle  murmuring? 

Who  shall  betray  these  soft,  peace-breathing  airs — 
Who  shall  remember?     Even  now  the  light 
Grows  dim — the  quick  recession  of  a  wave 
Drops  for  a  space  the  old  disguise  and  bares 
The  sharp  edged  reef  where  cold  and  black  as  night 
Yawns  a  deep  cavern  like  an  open  grave. 


[14] 


THE  STORM 

Death,  white  death  in  the  rush  of  the  roaring  gale, 

White  arms  of  death  among  the  crouching  rocks: 

The  lifted  ocean  rises,  rises,  locks 

The  island  in  one  fierce  embrace — they  fail — 

The  strong  defences  fail — whole  seas  assail 

The  crumbling  land.     Mighty  granite  blocks 

Uplifted,  leap  and  roll  in  tumbling  flocks. 

Death,  white  death  and  the  storm's  unceasing  wail. 

Death,  still  death.     O  God  of  crashing  storm, 
What  is  this  limp  and  lifeless  thing  that  lies 
Undone,  this  man  whose  last  defiant  breath 
Calls  on  Thy  name,  this  man  still  limp  and  warm, 
This  man  who  struggles  to  the  last  and  dies, 
Who  triumphs  in  the  very  arms  of  death? 


FOG 

The  sea  gives  up  its  unrememibered  dead — 

They  walk  the  shore,  they  crown  the  cliffs,  they  stand 

On  every  cape  and  pinnacle  of  land. 

Each  quiet  cove  and  inlet  feels  their  tread. 

Up  from  the  darkness  of  the  ocean's  bed 

Obedient  to  a  stern,  low  voiced  command, 

At  the  wavering  beck  of  a  pale,  uplifted  hand 

They  come,  the  silent  hosts  of  fear  and  dread. 

We  feel  their  presence  in  the  dripping  cloud; 
Their  touch  is  on  our  foreheads,  over  all 
The  sunlit  world  the  darkening  vapors  sail — 
This  is  their  day,  the  drifting  sea  wraiths  crowd 
Into  our  lives,  breathless  we  hear  their  call 
And  stout  indeed  the  heart  that  does  not  quail. 


[16] 


SIRENS 

Calling,  singing,  calling  through  the  rain — 
Siren  voices,  strong,  insistent,  near, 
Then  far  and  failing  with  the  fall  and  veer 
Of  cold  sea  wind.     Silence — and  again 
The  calling — shall  the  siren  song  be  vain  ? 
Above  the  noise  of  waters,  f  ainit  and  clear : — 
"This  helmsman,  this  way,  have  no  fear." 
Clearing  sea  mists  bear  the  soft  refrain. 

Cordage  pearled  with  fog  and  sails  adrip, 
High  bows  lifting  to  the  rain- white  swell — 
A  gliding  spectre  feels  her  way  along — 
Shrouded  for  her  grave,  the  freighted  ship. 
Shrouded  for  her  grave  ?    The  cry  "All's  well" 
Comes  back  to  mock  the  distant  siren  song. 


[17] 


MEMORIES 

Poignant,  grief  laden,  chill  and  comfortless 
How  the  old  memories  come  flooding  back, 
Known  sins,  known  weaknesses  and  all  the  lack 
Of  brave  accomplishment,  the  consciousness 
Of  heavy  wrong  that  stands  without  redress, 
That  death  will  come  before  the  hanging  slack 
Can  be  made  taut,  before  the  dull  and  black 
Will  shine  again  or  trouble  cease  to  press. 

Yet  the  blue  seas  their  sloping  shores  enfold, 
The  spreading  waters  warm  beneath  the  sun, 
Peace,  beauty,  power,  these  abide — 
To  shame  me  in  my  littleness;  the  bold 
Hard  ledges  mock,  and  gleaming  nipples  run 
Lightly  above  the  steady  rising  tide. 


[18] 


TRIUMPH 

All,  all  is  taken  from  me,  all — 

I  know  but  heavy  sorrow  and  the  long 

Insistent  pain  that  comes  of  hopeless  wrong. 

The  heavens  that  were  love  and  beauty  fall — 

Joy  and  laughter  are  beyond  recall, 

Yet  shall  the  barren  places  hear  my  song, 

Yet  shall  the  courage  of  my  faitih  be  strong, 

Unmoved,  resistant  like  a  great  sea  wall. 

For  in  the  barrenness  of  life  I  feel 
A  dignity  and  greatness  that  can  be 
Naught  but  the  hand  of  God.    Cold  and  bare 
The  sloping  shores,  merciless  as  steel 
The  hard  flait  surface  of  the  circling  sea — 
The  more  life  mocks  at  me  the  more  I  dare. 


[19] 


CAPTIVITY  CAPTIVE 

Rough  bound  on  every  hand  by  walls  of  stone, 

Held  prisoner  by  a  sea  that  never  sleeps, 

Bowed  in  a  dreary  wailing  wind  that  sweeps 

The  warmtih  and  comfort  out  of  life,  alone 

I  walk  these  island  paths;  what  shall  atone 

For  hard  gray  walls  and  grim,  death-guarded  keeps, 

For  cold  that  from  the  icy  water  creeps 

Into  the  shrinking  marrow  of  the  bone. 

Not  less  than  freedom  is  the  full  return 

For  bondage;  I  must  force  with  bleeding  hands 

The  bonds  ithat  hold  me;  up  the  winding  stair 

Of  this  earth  dungeon  I  sihall  leap  to  learn 

The  exaltation  of  a  wide  command, 

The  spreading  sea,  the  boundless  fields  of  air. 


[20] 


THE  WORD 

The  morning  sunlight  like  a  cloth  of  gold 

Sparkles  upon  the  sea.    A  fresh  wind  takes 

The  rising  waves,  from  roughening  water  shakes 

The  flying  whitecaps.     Swiftly,  fold  on  fold 

The  long  blue  rollers,  deep  and  bright  and  cold, 

Pass  the  tall  headlands.     All  the  sea  world  wakes — 

A  new  creation  with  the  sunrise  breaks — 

A  keen  new  world  for  one  grown  gray  and  old. 

So  is  the  morning,  so  the  glowing  sun. 
Even  the  hollows  of  the  dark  sea  caves 
Far  in  the  depths  of  their  eternal  night 
Feel  the  faint  stirring  of  the  day  begun. 
Above  the  mighty  concourse  of  -the  waves 
God  speaks  the  word  again  and  there  is  light. 


[21] 


PRAYER 

Long  days  of  island  stillness,  nights  that  fill 
The  firmament  with  blazing  stars— the  frail 
Soft  wonder  of  the  moon— white  clouds  that  sail 
Like  battle  fleets  of  old— the  golden  thrill 
Of  sunrise  mounting,  mounting  high  until 
The  last  faint  glimmers  of  the  planets  fail. 
What  have  these  things  to  do  witih  that  old  tale 
Of  heaven  and  an  all  pervading  Will? 

With  half  closed  eyes  I  let  the  strong  light  in, 

I  breathe  the  amazing  freshness  of  the  day, 

I  reach  out  slowly  with  a  groping  hand:— 

"God  of  the  sea,"  the  whispered  words  begin 

Their  faltering  prayer,  "show  me,  show  me  the  way, 

Almost  I  see,  almost  I  understand." 


[22] 


TRUTH 

What  if  I  gaze  at  evening  from  an  height 
And  see  the  colors  of  the  world  grow  dim — 
The  ocean's  limitless  horizon  rim 
Lost  in  the  trailing  shadows  of  the  night. 
The  hard  reefs  in  the  pale,  uncertain  light 
Melt  in  their  ghostly  froth  and  where  were  grim 
Sea  walls  of  stone,  appear  at  evening's  whim 
Thin,  trellised  films  of  shadow  tissue  slight. 

Nothing  is  real,  the  ocean  ait  my  feet 
Has  all  the  airy  depths  of  cloudless  skies. 
No  more  are  time  and  space,  whatever  seems 
Is  true.     In  boundless  solitude  I  greet 
The  night  of  mystery,  the  truth  that  lies 
Deep  hidden  in  the  quiet  land  of  dreams. 


THE  VOICE 

Speak  not,  be  still,  the  smallest  human  sound 
Would  'bring  from  every  side  an  (hundred  more 
To  rend  the  silence  with  their  echo  roar. 
The  very  heart,  the  restless  heart  is  bound 
In  silence.    Here  within  this  rocky  mound — 
This  island  in  midsea — the  slender  core 
Of  stillness  lies  and  all  the  sunlit  shore 
Dreams  in  a  spell  of  quiet — wide,  profound. 

Out  of  the  deep  a  sigh,  a  murmur  grows ; 
A  crystal  voicing  of  the  ocean's  breath 
Comes  and  is  gone — through  every  cove  and  bend 
The  word  is  passed  along,  along  it  flows — 
The  sea's  slow  commenting  on  life  and  death — 
Voice  of  the  beginning  and  the  end. 


[24] 


THE  FUTURE 

Time  halts  here — time  that  knows  the  glare 
Of  mid-day  suns,  the  mist-hung  fields  of  dawn, 
Long  tranquil  afternoons  and  the  forlorn 
Sweet  hours  of  dusk — time  that  knows  breaking  care, 
Long  days  of  struggle,  brave  resolve,  the  wear 
And  strain  of  life,  the  aching  love  and  scorn. 
Time  halts — a  great  obscuring  veil  is  drawn 
Across  the  past,  leaving  oblivion  there. 

Oblivion — the  long  unfolding  done — 

Time  halts  a  moment's  space  and  bids  me  stand 

Waiting,  thoughtful,  silent  and  alone — 

The  old  days  dead,  the  future  scarce  begun. 

A  wave  breaks  hollow  on  the  shining  sand, 

I  turn  and  face  again  the  great  unknown. 


[25] 


THE  LINE 

Today  I  have  seen 

A  clear  dividing  line 

Drawn  sharp  between 

The  winter  and  the  spring. 

Snow  is  on  the  marshes 

And  on  all  the  hills 

Down  to  the  very  margin  of  the  sea. 

There  is  the  line 

And  there  begins  the  spring. 

Sofit  blue  as  ever  yet  in  May, 

Wide  fields  of  ocean,  misty  blue, 

Stretch  on  and  on — 

Into  the  bending  sky. 


[26] 


FIRE  ON  THE  BEACH  IN  WINTER 

In  the  waste  of  snow 

The  drift-wood  smokes  and  kindles, 

Turns  to  flame, 

Heat  and  cold  commingle, 

Strive  for  mastery. 

The  flame  is  dull  against  the  snow, 

It  glows  against  the  gray  sea — 

The  smoke  has  color  of  the  sea. 

The  round,  black  rimmed  hole  in  the  snow 

Is  like  a  window  into  an  inner  world  of  fire 

The  salt  edge  of  the  sea 
Comes  creeping,  creeping 
Over  -the  icy  shingle. 
The  keen  salt  edge  of  the  sea — 
To  quench  the  world  of  fire. 


[27] 


MOON  PATH 

The  moon  path  is  a  net  of  silver  fishes, 

Whirling,  twisting,  leaping  at  their  play. 

I  draw  tlhe  net  in  slowly,  carefully — 

It  is  strangely  light — 

I  might  have  known  the  slender  cords  would  break. 


RAIN  AT  SEA 

A  million  little  circling  water  rings, 

A  million  tiny  leaping  dots  of  white 

Trouble  the  smoothness  of  the  flattened  sea. 

A  new  delight  of  freshness  fills  the  air, 

A  wordless  whisper — and  the  shower  has  passed. 


[29] 


SUNRISE 

At  early  dawn  the  fisher  fleet 

Lay  stall  and  gray  and  cold 

As  the  ghost  gray  sea: — 

A  rose  red  flush  came  up  the  sky, 

The  masts  were  burnished  gold 

With  sails  of  rose; — 

A  flare  of  flame  as  broad  as  the  moon 

Burned  through  the  barrier  clouds 

A  path  of  fire ; — 

The  masts  charred  black  and  the  limp  sails  hung 

As  dark  as  the  darkened  shrouds 

Across  the  sun. 


[30] 


HARBOR  WATER 

Green,  opaque, 

Like  a  huge  inlay  of  glass 

The  harbor  water  lies — 

Reflecting  nothing; 

Giving  back  instead 

At  odd,  uneven  intervals, 

A  quick,  blind  glare  of  sun. 


SUNLIGHT 

Green  and  gold  the  waters  play 
All  across  the  wind-swept  bay. 
Never  trail  of  shadow  there, 
Green  and  gold  the  waters  wear — 
Green  and  gold  and  gray. 

Life  and  ligiht  possess  the  day, 
Near  and  distant,  all  the  way. 
What  is  shadow,  what  is  care? 
Green  and  gold  the  waters  wear — 
Green  and  gold  and  gray. 


[32] 


THE  WAVE 

Out  of  the  deep  water 

Into  the  shoal  water 

Breaking  reflections  of  clouds  and  sky- 

Into  the  still  water 

Silently,  coolly, 

Came  the  smooth  roll  of  a  wave. 

Into  the  weed  tangle 

Lifting,  floating, 

Over  the  dull  rocks  leaving  them  bright- 

Under  the  cliff's  edge 

Murmuring,  sighing, 

Flowed  and  was  ended — the  wave. 


[33] 


LEST  THE  GREAT  SEA  BE  LONELY 

Lest  the  great  sea  be  lonely,  lest  it  fear, 
Recede  and  dwindle  in  the  lengthening  night — 
The  low  moon  thin  and  pale  and  warped  and  sere 
Hangs  out  at  last  her  yellow  lantern  light. 


[34] 


PART  II 

Theme 


THEME 

The  simple  theme  has  haunted  me  for  days 

With  quiet,  slow  insistence. 

In  all  my  dreams 

The  brave  elaborations  rise  and  fall 

Timed  to  a  quiet  breathing. 

And  may  the  God  of  all  musicians  give  to  me 

The  strange  poetic  sureness 

That  can  take 

Out  of  the  formless  world  of  air  and  sun 

A  music  that  has  lived  there  always 

But  unknown,  unheard,  undreamed, 

A  music  that  shall  speak  with  surer  tongue 

Than  all  the  lovely  words  that  have  been  spoken. 

Come  to  me,  soul  of  viol, 

Soul  of  harp, 

Crooning  of  mellow  tubes, 

Come  to  me  and  let  your  voices  flow 

In  magic  modulations — 

Come  to  me  rhythm  and  balance 

You  are  my  inner  life,  my  knowledge. 

Now  shall  the  song  be  made — 

Song  of  my  brain 

Song  of  the  air  and  sun, 

Song  of  sweet  life  and  living 

Voice  of  the  silent  world. 


[37] 


THE  OLD  SYMPHONY 

Old- music  lives  again  today. 

These  violins  and  'cellos,  flutes  and  horns, 

Are  old,  old  instruments. 

The  great  piano  has  become 

A  tinkling  harpsichord — 

The  leader  sits  before  it — 

Raises  a  free  hand 

Releasing  so 

The  first  notes  of  the  ancient  symphony. 

On,  on  the  measures  flow 

Fresh  and  sweet  and  true — 

They  have  not  matched  it  in  these  later  days. 

Andante  con  moto, 

Adagio,  tripping  scherzo, 

Allegro  maestro  assai — 

Groping,  searching, 

Dancing,  jesting, 

Triumphing  at  last. 

The  white  haired  leader  rises  slowly, 
Bows  with  stately  grace, 
Then  as  fades  a  dream 
Grows  dim 
And  is  no  more. 


[38] 


BASS  VIOL 

Shedding  gold  pollen  like  a  giant  bee 

The  squat  bow  sweeps  across  the  viol's  face — 

Deep   sounds,   cross   cuts  of  music,   meaning  naught 

Yet  serving  all — the  true  support,  the  bass. 

Down,  down  the  viol  slides  to  depths  below 

AH  sound — to  depths  where  silence  lies  unmoved. 


[39] 


'CELLO 

O  splendid  voice,  singing  alone, 

Restrained  by  trembling  fingers, 

Then  given  freely,  warmly,  fully. 

Voice  of  the  old  brown  wood — 

Singing  to  the  people, 

Singing  to  dull  ears 

That  cannot  understand. 

Wake  now,  rouse  them, 

Give  them  your  meaning  fully, 

Give  them  war  and  strife — 

Give  -them  beauty  growing  out  of  strife, 

Beauty  that  makes  the  'heart  ache, 

Beauty  that  makes  the  heart  break, 

Then  peace,  a  long,  deep,  final  peace. 


[40] 


OBOE 

But  let  that  note  be  heard 
Above  the  sound  of  strings — 
The  concert  lights  grow  dim, 
A  sudden  shadow  brings 
The  spirit  of  dreaming  woods, 
Of  moonlit  glades  that  lie 
Far,  far  from  the  ways  of  men 
Beneath  the  quiet  sky. 


[41] 


CLARINET 

When  the  hot  sun  owns  the  earth  and  sky 

And  round  fruit  bends  the  trees, 

When  the  'harvesters  leave  the  fields  and  lie 

Full  length  in  the  slow  winged  -breeze, 

Then  Jean  joints  up  his  clarinet 

And  pipes  a  reedy  tune — 

A  dry  little  air  and  the  time  is  set 

To  the  heat  of  the  harvest  noon. 

To  the  heat  and  the  dust  and  the  clustered  vine 

And  the  air  of  a  sultry  day, 

To  the  glint  of  a  distant  water  shine 

And  the  smell  of  new  mown  hay. 


[42] 


BASS  TUBA 

I  am  the  deep  foundation, 

Sounding  brass; 

Others  pass, 

I,  I  alone  remain. 

My  great  mouth  flares  above 

The  busy  throng, 

My  heavy  song 

Goes  burrowing  far  below. 

My  long  vibrations  hold, 

Begin  and  break, 

Descend  and  shake 

The  very  walls  of  sound. 


[43] 


THE  HARP 

Obscured  and  dim,  yet  full  of  instant  life — 
A  woman's  instrument,  that  feels  and  knows 
The  tug  of  sorrow  and  the  joy  of  strife, 
The  kiss  of  lovers  and  the  clash  of  foes. 


[44] 


CYMBALS 

The  cymbals  whispered — hush — 

They  said  that — 

Hush— 

The  great  brass  disks 

That  should  have  clashed, 

That  should  have  shattered  silence, 

Hush,  hush — they  said — 

And  silence  came. 


[45] 


FANTASY 

Oh,  sweet  irrelevance  of  flowing  sound, 
Of  music  that  will  wander  without  stay 
Over  the  world  and  under  the  world  at  play — 
Oh,  voices  lost  and  of  a  sudden  found, 
That  will  not  follow,  will  not  yet  be  bound; — 
Music  of  dawn  and  of  the  dying  day; — 
Music  of  color,  green  and  blue  and  gray ; 
Voices  of  air  and  of  the  sun-warmed  ground. 

What  instrument  shall  form  you,  wthat  red  lips 
Can  sing  your  quick  withdrawal  and  the  shy 
Renewal  of  your  loveliness?    What  time 
Can  beat  for  you  whose  changing  rhythm  trips 
And  glides,  whose  magic  words  so  swiftly  fly 
They  will  not  bear  the  fairy  weight  of  rhyme? 


[46] 


PRIDE 

Musician  with  your  pride  of  tone, 

Your  joy  of  rushing  speed, 

Your  multitudinous  notes, 

Splendor  of  great  passage, 

Decorations  light  as  air — 

Be  not  proud — 

For  the  poet  too  may  sing. 

Here  and  there 

Some  shining  broidery  of  nhyme, 

Some  cadenced  word  of  human  speech 

Obscures  your  flying  measures. 

All  your  splendid  themes, 

Your  fine  elaborations  fail 

Before  that  magic  word. 

Poet  with  your  breathing  loveliness  of  words, 
The  flute  and  viol  of  your  flowing  speech, 
Be  not  too  fproud,  too  sure  of  mastery— 
What  words  of  yours  can  match  the  sunrise; 
When  moonlight  speaks,  your  vaunted  words  are  dumb. 

Sea,  air,  sky  and  velvet  valley, 

Sunlit  peak  and  spreading  river, 

Be  not  proud,  be  not  certain  of  your  mastery. 

There  is  in  touch  of  hand, 

In  curve  of  brow,  in  lips  that  speak  no  word, 

More  of  beauty,  more  of  light,  more  of  heaven, 

Than  ever  yet  was  known  or  can  be  known  elsewhere. 

All  the  joy  of  life  may  sing 

In  one  swift  glance  of  love. 

[47] 


MARCHE  FUNEBRE 

I  must  have  youth  beside  me  when  they  play 
Music  of  sorrow,  youth  that  does  not  know 
The  weight  of  sorrow.     Steady  and  deep  and  slow 
The  great  march.     Now  the  silent  soldiers  sway 
Rhythmically,  heavily,  down  the  peopled  way. 
Loss,  unending  loss,  the  trumpets  blow, 
Keen,  keen  the  blending  measures  grow — 
A  brave  soul  marches  to  the  grave  today. 

Stand  closer,  youth,  brave  youth  with  unbowed  head. 
Your  spirit  shall  be  mine,  your  courage  mine, 
Though  tightening  heart  and  sudden  indrawn  breath 
Pay  tribute  to  this  music  of  the  dead. 
In  the  clear  distance,  down  the  lengthening  line 
The  trumpets  sing  of  triumph  over  death. 


[48] 


FLAME  SONG 

Flame! 

What  else  shall  I  call  you — 

Girl  of  the  song? 

Flame ! 

How  the  orchestral  branches  sway 

Like  trees  in  the  wind. 

Tlhe  fire  of  your  song 

Mounts  up  and  up 

Above  the  branches — 

Consuming,  leaping, 

Failing,   falling, 

Till  embers  alone  remain. 


[49] 


NOVAES 

Suddenly  I  knew  that  this  young  girl — 

Playing  old  music,  great  music 

With  ease  and  brilliance — 

Was  doing  the  incredible. 

I  knew  that  she  had  somehow  passed 

A  vague  and  mystic  'bound, 

That  she  was  over,  well  over, 

Into  the  realms  of  enchantment. 

Without  effort,  without  sign, 

Perhaps  without  knowing  it  herself, 

She  had  crossed  tlhe  border — 

She  was  no  longer  playing  the  piano, 

She  was  dreaming — she  was  free. 


[50] 


PRELUDE 

I  would  have  this  music  played 

With  players  grouped  about  a  fountain — 

Here  the  violins, 

There  the  'cellos, 

Double  bass  beyond — 

And  back,  half  hidden  by  the  fountain  bowl, 

The  flute,  an  oboe  and  a  long  bassoon. 

A  thin,  smooth  water  jet 

Uprises, 

Wavers, 

Holds, 

Breaks  brightly  at  the  top 

And  falls — >a  silver  shower. 

Ready,  bows  and  reeds, 
Ready,  flute- 
Well  played- 

Now  you  have  heard  and  seen, 

Tell  me  which  was  motion, 

Which  was  sound, 

The  fountain  or  the  flute — 

And  was  the  pizzicato  done  with  strings 

Or  dropping  water? 


[SO 


INTERMEZZO 

The  water  jet  falls  lower,  lower— 

Ceases. 

The  sliding  bows  are  still. 

Rhythm  cancels  rhythm, 

Nothing  stirs — 

And  yet  upon  the  soundless  air 

Steals  out  with  fairy  shyness 

Something  words  may  not  disclose- 

A  soft  andante  muted  down 

Until  it  seems 

The  very  voice  of  silence. 


[52] 


FINALE 

Wake  now  and  let  the  fountain  wake — 

Forget  the  dream, 

Think  now  of  life  and  motion. 

A  sheaf  of  streams  leaps  upward, 

Mingles, 

Falls  to  rise  again,  again, 

While  charmed  voices 

Intricately  sing. 

A  gleaming  discord  strikes  one  dagger  thrust 

And  goes. 

The  crossed  themes  fly, 

They  break,  recover — 

Under  all 

The  great  slow  bass 

Spreads  out  a  deep'ning  shadow 

Till  the  hush  of  twilight  comes, 

Until  the  slow,  slow  pace 

That  lurks  in  every  tempo  swift 

Comes  to  its  own. 

The  water  sheaf 

Becomes  a  single  slender  shaft  again — 

Falls  lower,  lower, 

Sinks  at  last 

Into  the  fountain  bowl. 


[53] 


PART  III 

Tree,    You  Are  a  Shadow 


TREE,  YOU  ARE  A  SHADOW 

Tree,  you  are  a  shadow, 

Hooded  with  night. 

I  think  of  hands, 

Folded  in  a  black  cloak, 

A  head  bent  low. 

You  do  not  stir, 

You  do  not  speak. 

Tree,  you  are  a  shadow, 

Ominous  and  still. 

You  are  aloof, 

You  are  mysterious. 

Do  you  delight 

In  the  fireflies  that  dance  above  your  roots, 

Are  you  amused 

By  the  sudden,  shivering  cry, 

The  screech  owl  cry 

That  you  and  I  were  expecting? 

I  feel  your  aloofness, 

And  your  mystery, 

But  I  am  not  afraid. 

Tree,  you  are  a  shadow, 

Hooded  with  night. 

Is  it  birdsong  or  light  that  awakes  me, 

Or  the  rustle  of  wind  in  the  leaves? 

The  night  is  gone 

And  the  shadows  are  gone. 

Ah,  my  tree — 

As  the  sap  goes  mounting  skyward, 

[57] 


In  your  strong  trunk, 

As  your  great  branches  sway  in  the  air  and  the  light 

So  life  comes  back  to  me 

And  I  feel, 

Vaguely  but  surely  as  you  must  feel, 

The  courage  and  the  will  to  live. 


[58] 


THE  HEARTH  FIRE 

Steadily  the  fire  played 

Upon  the  old  heart  of  the  wood. 

The  great  log  slept  in  cool  disdain. 

Over  the  iron  bark  and  strong,  split  surfaces 

The  insistent  flames  made  myriad  designs. 

A  soft  blue  smoke  kept  rising,  rising. 

Suddenly  it  came — the  conflagration — 

The  strong  old  wood  gave  way 

In  a  hundred  places 

And  fire  leaped  from  its  heart. 


[59] 


TREE-TOPS  IN  A  STORM 

They  rise  and  tug  like  leashed  balloons — 
Up  and  down,  side  to  side — 
Formless,  green-black,  leaping  masses- 
Opening,  closing,  spreading,  folding, 
Streaming  with  the  rain. 


MOON  MOTH 

Darkly, 
Brightly, 

Wings  of  moonlight  gleaming- 
Sailing, 
Drifting, 
Moon  moth. 

Swiftly, 

Slowly, 

Less  than  shadow  seeming — 

Silver, 

Nothing, 

Moon  moth. 


[61] 


SCARF  DANCE 

Dance ! 

For  the  fairy  folk  are  dancing  now. 

Dance ! 

The  fairy  folk  will  show  you  how. 

Great  folk  are  dancing, 

Elf  folk  are  prancing, 

Come  now, 

Come  make  your  bow. 

Come  now,  come  out  upon  the  moonlit  green, 

Silk  scarfs  are  flowing  in  a  moonlit  sheen, 

Great  folk  are  dancing, 

Elf  folk  are  prancing, 

Come  now, 

Come  make  your  bow. 

Moon  music  flowing  with  a  soundless  sound, 

Tip  toes  just  touching  on  the  dancing  grounc 

Dance ! 

To  the  fairy  music  bend  your  knees, 

Dance ! 

For  the  wind  is  in  the  bending  trees — 

Come  now 

Come  make  your  bow. 


FIRE  FLY  DANCE 

Under  the  drooping  elms  the  night  is  dark:  the 
meadow  seems  lighter  as  though  a  fine  mist  were  lying 
on  .the  grass:  in  the  deep  shade  of  the  trees  a  tiny 
greenish  yellow  star  begins  to  glide  back  and  forth  in 
a  sihort  arc — this  way,  that  way,  disappearing  in  the 
darkness  at  each  end  of  the  swing.  It  is  the  baton  of 
the  fairy  leader ;  it  is  the  signal  for  the  dance.  Suddenly 
the  tree  toads  and  the  frogs  begin  to  pipe: 

Whee— 

The  lantern  dance. 

Winking 
Linking 

Bright 
Glows  the  elfin  light 

Blinking 
Sinking 

Dark 
Goes  each  shining  spark. 

Over  the  wide  meadow  the  dance  goes  on;  groups 
of  lantern  dancers  hold  the  stage  left,  right  and  centre. 
Suddenly  then,  the  whole  stage  glows  with  the 
ensemble : 


Winking 
Linking 

Now 
Pirouette  and  bow. 

Blinking 
Sinking 

Done 
Off  stage,  off  stage  they  run. 

A  dog  barks  in  the  distance — the  frogs  and  tree  toads 
stop  their  piping  for  a  moment,  while  in  the  darkness 
the  stage  is  set  for  the  next  act,  which  is  the  Dance  of 
Moon  Beams.  Slowly  the  meadow  lightens.  The 
moon  appears  from  behind  a  heavy  cloud  bank.  The 
piping  begins  in  a  lower,  slower  movement: 

Softly- 
The  Dance  of  the  Moon  Beams. 


[64] 


CLOG  DANCE 

Clap 

Rap 

Slap-slap-ker-slap, 

Heel  rap, 

Toe  slap, 

Heel  rapping, 

Toe  slapping, 

Now  they  are  clipping  it, 

Speeding  up,  slipping  it, 

Off  in  the  wthirl  of  it, 

Caught  in  the  skirl  of  it. 

Pipers  are  puffing  it, 

Drummers  are  ruffing  it, 

Quick  fiddles  scratching  it, 

Sharp  fifer  catching  it, 

Keep  it  up,  make  it  go, 

Keep  it  up  heel  and  toe — 

On  till  the  drummer  drags, 

On  till  the  fifer  lags, 

Clap, 

Rap, 

Slap-  slap— ker-slap. 


SNOW 

Soft  flakes  light  as  air 

Sweep, 

Creep, 

Across  the  quiet  fields; 

Slowly  whiten  the  meadow, 

Fly,   " 

Lie, 

Cover  the  green  of  the  world. 

Gray  skies  hold  back  the  storm, 

Hold 

The  cold. 

Behind  vast  billowing  curtains 

The  cloud-bound  whirlwind  waits. 


[66] 


MOONLIGHT 

Straight  overhead 

A  small,  hard  disk  of  silver 

Set  in  blue. 

The  sky  is  empty : 

Not  a  star  may  shine. 

The  moon-blanched  land 

Lies  bleak  and  shadowless. 


[67] 


THE  STONE  TIGER 

Four  inches  'high  he  sits, 

Small  ears  held  flat, 

His  eyes  two  greenish  slits 

Drawn  down  slantwise. 

The  fanged  jaws  open  wide- 

1s  it  a  yawn, 

A  silent  roar  of  pride, 

Or  is  it  protest 

At  a  world  gone  mad, 

At  life  awry 

And  more  than  jungle  bad? 

He  comforts  me. 


[68] 


TIGER,  TIGER 

At  night  my  stone  smooth  tiger  glides 
Across  the  silent  room. 
He's  somewhere  now,  somewhere  he  hides 
Within  the  bookish  gloom. 

Good  hunting  friend,  the  tangled  brake 
Of  poets  be  your  lair, 
Crouch  low  behind  my  black  bound  Blake, 
Crouch  low,  good  tiger,  glare. 

Old  Blake  will  know  and  welcome  you 
There  in  the  shifty  night, 
But  oh,  whatever  else  you  do, 
Burn  bright  for  him,  burn  bright. 


[69] 


THE  ROAD 

Tremulous  patches  of  yellow  light 

Lying  along  the  wheel-worn  way 
Fade  and  are  gone  as  the  whispering  night 

Speeds  through  the  woods  at  close  of  day. 

What  of  the  road  in  the  starlight  dim 

Pallid  and  still  in  a  world  of  shade? 
What  of  the  road  and  what  of  him 

Who  follows  its  course  through  the  wooded  glad 


[70] 


THE  HAND 

I  saw  it,  I  tell  you — 

A  hand  on  the  railing — 

It  came  slowly 

Out  of  the  darkness. 

The  knuckles  whitened 

As  though  a  weight  were  lifting- 

I  stood  in  the  sihadow, 

Dared  not  move — 

But  the  hand  slid  down  slowly 

And  was  gone. 


[71] 


THE  PISTOL 

The  towering  shadow  of  a  man, 

The  round  blue  rim  of  a  pistol- 
Death! 

But  I  leapt  at  him — 
Crash — 

The  night  flared  red — 

I,  the  coward, 

I,  the  weakling — 

Leapt— and  won. 


[72] 


MIDNIGHT 

Tick — Tock, 

Rise,  great  moon,  above  the  hill, 
The  dream-touched  house  is  white  and  still, 

Tick— Tock— 

In  a  darkened  room  the  hours  pass: 
Slowly,  slowly  through  the  glass 

Tick— Tock, 

The  moonlight  creeps  across  the  floor, 
Brightens  the  wall,  the  hearth,  the  door ; 

Tick — Tock — 

Falls  like  snow  in  a  windless  place, 
Reaches  a  quiet,  sleeping  face, 

Tick— Tock— 

No  sound  there  is  in  the  world  tonight 
But  the  old  clock  ticking  left  and  right, 

Tick — Tock. 


[73] 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


50m-l,'69(J5643s8)2373— 3A.1 


STORED  AT  NBLF 


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